everyone's
by moeten
Summary: do you want to come over and kill some time? [written for the 10 year ficathon!]


_dammit! i missed the deadline by eleven minutes! written for beneath the umbrella's 10 year ficathon; much thanks too to snowboundmermaid for giving me prompts and letting me ramble while trying to bang this thing out! HUFFS that was a dash to the finish for sure!_

* * *

 **2013**

* * *

"—coming over, so can't you please be cool?" Ted pleads, hands pressed together beseechingly, and then he pushes past Barney into his apartment.

"I'm _always_ cool," Barney sulks, watching with confused amazement as Ted actually begins to straighten the throw pillows on the sofa, and then looks around for more things to tidy. "What are you doing?"

"I want this place to look nice," Ted says, moving the few items on the coffee table slightly; using his sleeve to rub at a smudge on the glass.

"I pay a service to do that," Barney says, completely befuddled.

"You wouldn't happen to have any fresh cut flowers?" Ted asks, straightening the pillows for a second time.

"Oh, yeah, I'll run out to the garden and pick some," Barney says, jabbing his thumb at the balcony. " _Dude_."

"This is the first time Tracy is going to be visiting you guys! I want her to like…" Ted gives Barney a look he can't quite read, probably because he has no idea what is happening anymore. "…your apartment. And also preferably not find any lube lying around."

"Please, that's what the second bedroom is for," Barney says idly, rubbing at his cheekbone. Ted looks disgusted and talks half a step backwards in the direction of said bedroom. "I mean, what? If you hadn't noticed, me and Robin have _met_ Tracy before."

"But this is _different_ ," Ted whines, marking the end of Barney's interest in the situation. He crosses over to the kitchen and opens the fridge, taking out two beers and offering one to Ted. Barney then sits down on the sofa, nudging one of the pillows with his elbow. On purpose. He sees Ted's twitch.

"Ted," Barney says, giving into his feelings of pity for his younger-and-shorter friend, "not only have Robin and I met Tracy before, we both met her _before_ you did. As a matter of fact, I've known her for half a year now. Which is _how_ much longer than you?"

"Okay, first of all, one chance—"

"–Life altering!—" Barney interrupts, because he's sure merely speaking to him once must have improved Tracy's life vastly for the better. Also the whole thing where she gave him a pep talk and he got married.

"–meeting last year doesn't count as 'knowing Tracy for six months,'" Ted says Teddishly.

"A month and a half," Barney finishes. He lifts one hand and lowers another in a weighing motion. "Six weeks, six months… _ehh_."

"And it's _different_ ," Ted whines again, his teeth grit.

Barney rolls his eyes and stares up at the ceiling. "How is it different?" he asks, because Ted is clearly dying to explain.

"It's one thing to be friends with your boyfriend's friends when you see them in a casual, for example bar, setting, but to start visiting them — as a couple — I mean, that makes us _serious_. And if she starts hanging out with you guys at _home_ , then she's really part of the gang; what if she sticks around forever? I mean, of course I _want_ her to, but if she doesn't like hanging out with you guys, and Marshall and Lily, what am I supposed to do then?"

 _Find a new girlfriend_ is kind of on the tip of Barney's tongue, but he doesn't say it. "Dude," he says, sitting back up. "Stop being such a _girl_ about this. There isn't a single person in New York that doesn't love me,"

"Except for half the female population," Ted mutters; Barney is a good best friend and ignores it.

"And Robin?" he gestures at the television. " _Please_." As if there's anyone who could possibly dislike _Robin_. "And we put away the sex swing and everything. Kidding," he adds when Ted starts to stand up from the chair. "Like I said, second bedroom. My point is… _my point is_ ," Barney adds with emphasis, and Ted sits back down again. Barney takes a breath, exhales.

"I like Tracy a lot," he says honestly. "Even if you weren't dating I'd wanna be friends with her. Scratch that, I _am_ friends with her. For six months now. Ted, I've seen you fall in love eighty-three times now, and eighty- _two_ of those times have been utter malarky. This is the _first_ time I've seen a girl look at you the same, super gross, way you look at her. Trust me on this. She'd stick around you even if she hated the rest of us."

Ted sighs and smiles a little and groans. "Thanks, bro," he says. "It's just… I really want her to want to hang out with you guys. I want her to _like_ you guys."

"Please. Everyone likes me. I'm —"

* * *

 **2009**

* * *

"— so awesome!" Marshall says. He and Robin high-five and fist bump and weave drunkenly through the crowds exiting the rink.

"I told you!" Robin crows. "Hockey! Dude! It's like, the greatest of all sports. Did you see the blood on Drury's retainer?" she gives a little giggle.

"Oh man, it was so great," Marshall says happily. "I'm coming with you to all the games from now on." Beat. "I'm coming with you to some of the games from now on. We're pretty broke. But that was awesome!"

Robin laughs drunkenly and pats him hard enough on the arm that Marshall stumbles a little. "It was fun hanging out with you tonight. Want to hit the bar? Let the others know what they missed?"

"You bet!" Marshall says, patting Robin's arm hard enough that she lurches a couple of steps to the side. "Wow, why don't we ever hang out? We should —"

* * *

 **2012**

* * *

" — hang out more often," Lily says, rubbing Marvin's back after a feeding.

Ted smiles wanly. "Lil, we hang out every day." He takes a drink of his beer. There's something kind of profound to it, he thinks: he's nursing a beer, and Lily, one of his oldest friends, is straight up nursing.

"I know," Lily says, "it's just… I'm worried about you. Marshall too."

"What's there to worry about?" Ted asks. He looks idly at the wall above the TV. He knows every crack, every flake of paint. He misses this apartment, sometimes. Even it's changed, shed furniture and wall hangings, gotten new coats of paint and new cracks. Something profound, alright. Everything's changing but him. "There's nothing to worry about."

" _Ted_ ," Lily sighs, not believing him. Marvin burps and spits up a little on her towel, and she lifts her baby and coos. Ted can't help but smile at the whole scene; at the mere fact that spit up is suddenly kind of charming.

"Okay," Ted admits, still smiling. "It's a little weird all at once. Robin's back together with Barney; you and Marshall have Marvin…" his smile fades; he shakes his head to clear it. _Everyone's moving on with their lives except me_. But that's so negative — it's so… _self pitying_. "I'm happy for all of you," he says, because he wants it _to_ be said. And he is. He just wishes he wasn't on the outside looking in.

"Hey, and _you_ just made New York history," Lily says boisterously. "Mr 'youngest architect.' You've got a lot going for you!"

"Yeah, that is pretty cool," Ted admits with a smile and tilt of his head.

"Here," Lily says, handing him an increasingly sleepy Marvin to hold. He takes the baby gladly, holding him against his chest. "You also have the cutest nephew in the world," Lily says in slight baby talk. "And," in her normal voice, "you're going to be best man at Barney and Robin's wedding! Another for the history books." She removes her towel and sinks back into the sofa cushions. "I was always rooting for those kids, but no way I'd have taken money on _that_ bet."

"Right?" Ted says, and gets about halfway to laughing at the idea that New York's two biggest commitment-phobes are getting married. Are marrying each other. Are in love and getting married. It's just weird: new and weird. He's happy for them like he's happy for Lily and Marvin. More than happy for them. He pushed Robin out of the car, for — for this? For her happiness, and her happiness makes _him_ happy, just as he's happy for everyone else in his… happy, happy life.

Lily places her hand on his. "I get it," she says, trying to look him in the eye.

"I don't think you do," Ted says, eyes going up to the ceiling. He doesn't _want_ her to get it. Even he knows how pathetic this all is.

"So we should hang out more," Lily says. "You've got a lot of things going for you right now. You can't let a couple of bumps —"

* * *

 **2010**

* * *

" — get you down," Robin is saying. Barney blinks and tries to figure out what she's talking about and buys time by stuffing another couple of french fries into his mouth. "I mean it," Robin says, except he honestly has no idea what she means. Hmm, he needs more ketchup. "I know things have been… what they've been, but I don't like to see you upset like this."

Barney chews his fries and swallows and feels them slide down his throat uncomfortably. "Robin, I don't have the faintest idea what you're talking about," he says, reaching for the bottle of Heinz.

She looks at him like she's disappointed. He slaps the bottom of the bottle, thinking, _join the club_. Those french fries are not settling well. A too-large splurt of ketchup splashes onto his plate. "I'm trying to have an honest talk with you, Barney," she says, frustration in her voice. "You've been through a lot recently, with your father, and the Arcadian, and I'm here for you, okay?"

He looks up at her, down at the crime scene on his plate, back up at her. Her eyes open and blue and pretty, and he hates a little that he still looks at her and thinks about her stupid _eyes_. Hates that she's sitting across from him, feeling sorry for him. He doesn't need that. He's awesome. "Well, I never asked you to be," Barney says cooly.

The shutters go up. "Fine," says Robin. "Sorry for trying to be a good friend."

He drags a fry through the ketchup and pops it into his mouth. She doesn't storm out of the diner. She stares at her coffee, he finishes his lunch. "Look," he says, an abortive stab at an apology that doesn't make it past the first word. She looks back up at him, he looks at her pretty, pretty eyes. "Don't worry about the bill," Barney says, instead of anything he should or kind of wants to say. "I —"

* * *

 **2007**

* * *

" — got this," Marshall says, reaching into the bag again, "tee-shirt for Ted." He pulls out a men's shirt emblazoned with I NESSIE, an adorable cartoon loch ness monster winking under the legend.

"Aww," says Ted. "You shouldn't have."

"Really, you shouldn't have," says Barney in an undertone.

"We got you and Robin souvenirs too," Marshall says pleasantly.

"Aww," coos Barney, eyeing Ted eyeing his tee-shirt. "There's no way in hell I'd be caught dead in a I heart anything shirt. But thanks for the thought!"

"By the way, where is Robin?" Lily asks. Barney's glance twitches over to Ted, and Ted looks guilty.

"It's just weird between us right now," Ted says defensively. He laughs self-depreciatingly and rubs the stubble on his chin. "I mean, can you blame her? With you guys away on your honeymoon, her only hang-out options were her _ex_ and _Barney_."

"I thought you guys broke up on good terms!" Lily says, her voice going high in her distress.

"We did! But…" Ted heaves a sigh. "it was hard acting like we hadn't, and…"

"She's going to Argentina," Barney says blandly. "Her flight's in a couple of days. She made sure to book it after you guys came back from Scotland."

"That's sweet of her," Marshall says, shooting Ted a nervous glance, unsure of the tone to take around him when talking about her. Ted shrugs in reply to the unasked question. "We got her a snowglobe."

Lily looks like she wants to ask Barney a question, but he interrupts. "Did you get me a snowglobe?"

Lily and Marshall share a gooey look. The look goes on for a while, considering their newlywed status. "We got you a keychain," Marshall says, reaching into the bag and retrieving a green plastic loch ness monster key ring. It too is winking.

"And then we thought about it, and… well, you did pay us a _lot_ for that painting," Lily continues. Marshall goes into the bag again. "So we also got you a genuine bottle of —"

* * *

 **2015**

* * *

"Scotch, neat," Robin says roughly, slapping her hand down on the bar.

"Ookay," Tracy says, lifting her eyebrows at Robin's brusque tone. "Rough day at the office?"

Robin does manage a strained sort of smile at Carl as she takes her glass and heads to the booth, Tracy trailing behind with her coca-cola. "You have no idea," she says.

"Nope," Tracy replies with a quirk of her lips. "I probably don't. Wanna talk about it?"

"Barney and I had a fight," Robin says, after a minute of silent debate and a gulp of scotch. "It wasn't serious," Robin continues; lies; "I'm just… kind of frazzled. Sorry. I know I'm the one who invited you out here today."

"Hey, it's fine," Tracy shrugs. "Right now, I'm kind of in that stage of motherhood where I love Penny into itty-bitty pieces, but oh my God, I get to spend time alone? Out of the house? Sign me up!"

"Yeah, I think Lily hit that stage a couple of times," Robin says dryly. Sometimes, now that all of her friends are parents, she _does_ wonder. But all in all, she's happy to never have to struggle to get some alone time.

"So what's got you all frazzled?" Tracy asks.

Robin makes a vague noise; rubs the side of her neck. "We… argued…"

Tracy hesitates. "If it's too personal, you don't have to talk about it."

"It's not," Robin says quickly. As soon as she does, she realises that actually, last night was the very definition of _personal_ , but she doesn't know where on this to stand. If it was Lily, she'd have no problem, but Tracy… well… "It's kind of a sex thing," she clarifies, carefully watching for Tracy's reaction. She knows she isn't exactly a sheltered virgin, but somehow she's just never given Robin a bawdy, let's-chat-about-our-sex-lives impression.

"Ohh," says Tracy, her eyes going wide. She stares at Robin for long enough that Robin is starting to wonder if she shouldn't have said anything, but then Tracy covers her mouth with her hand as she laughs. "Sorry! Wow, I'm sorry! It's just — this is mean,"

"What's mean?" Robin asks warily, narrowing her eyes.

"It's just, you've been grumpy since we met up! And it's a _sex thing_ , and I'm just like, of _course_ it is, with you two," Tracy giggles, wiping sneakily at her eyes.

"Uh, _okay_ ," says Robin, a little offended. "We have a lot of sex, and that's actually great."

"It is!" Tracy insists, still grinning. "So what was this big fight?"

"You know, if you're not going to take this seriously…" Robin warns, but the humour of the situation is starting to hit her, too. Okay, maybe they do have a reputation for being a bit over-sexed. Robin fails to see how that's a bad thing, but, sure. She married _Barney Stinson_. What does anyone expect?

"I am going to take this extremely seriously," Tracy says, her eyes big and wide in an attempt to keep a straight face. "So go on, tell me all about —"

* * *

 **2006**

* * *

" — Sex!" Barney exclaims. Marshall and Ted both look up, startled, and in that moment, Barney palms the ace, tucks it up his sleeve, and reveals his empty hands. He cackles. "See? You did it again!"

"You can't just yell _sex_ and not expect us to react," Marshall says fairly.

"Dude," Ted complains, "you said you were going to show us that trick."

"And I did," Barney says, waggling his fingers. "You just weren't paying attention. Whose fault is that?"

"Your fault?" Ted suggests.

"Come on," Marshall sighs. "I really want to learn how to do this."

"And you will, my young friend," Barney says, his voice low and dramatic. He reaches across the coffee table and pulls the ace out from behind Marshall's ear. Marshall grins, all complaints forgotten.

Ted smiles and shakes his head and leans back into the sofa, giving up on the 'magic lesson' that he suspects is really more of an excuse for Barney to show off. What he doesn't quite understand is Marshall's sudden enthusiasm: he gets the finding magic cool thing, but Marshall had never wanted to learn card tricks _before_. Maybe he's trying to distract himself, with Lily back in town.

"Pay close attention," Barney is saying. "I'm going to take this ace, hide it in my palm, and then slide it up my sleeve." He demonstrates each move in slow, exaggerated gestures. "Bee-tee-dubs, this is also a great move in when playing poker. Marshall, are you watching?"

"I'm watching," Marshall says, his face furrowed in concentration.

"Good, because I'm only doing this once," says Barney, holding up the card, flipping it between his fingers. " _Wow_ , did you _see_ Lily's boobs yesterday?" Marshall jumps back, startled and upset; the card has vanished from Barney's fingers. "Misdirection," Barney says smugly. "Always watch my _hands_ , not —"

"Dude!" Ted objects, as Marshall's expression closes, the smile gone from his features. "Not —"

* * *

 **2014**

* * *

"Cool! Thank you!" Tracy says with only slightly faked enthusiasm, unwrapping her Christmas present from Marshall: a book of Star Wars sheet music. "Wow, I can't wait to bust this out at parties." She likes Star Wars, but she is never going to bust this out at parties. Except for Marshall's birthday, she supposes.

"No problem," Marshall says, all excited. "Hey, and thanks for the peanut brittle."

"Yeah… I feel bad," Tracy says self depreciatingly. "I mean, it's home made and _totally_ delicious, I use my Nana's recipe and it's _hardcore_ , but I wish I could have gotten you guys more personalised gifts."

"Don't worry about it," says Marshall, with his reassuring smile and reassuring hugeness; Tracy doesn't know what it is about him, but he just kind of _exudes_ calm niceness. "I mean, Lily and the kids and I only _just_ got back from Rome. I did all my shopping at the mall a few days ago."

"The mall!" Tracy says, hitting her palm to her forehead. "I should have thought of the mall!"

"Homemade gifts are better, anyway," Marshall says kindly. Yeah, she's definitely going to have to bust out the Star Wars ukulele jam for his birthday. "Anyway, this time next year, you'll know us well enough for badass impersonal mall gifts."

"Aww," says Tracy, hoping he's right, "do you really —"

* * *

 **2011**

* * *

"— think so?" Lily asks, giving a thoughtful little hum.

"Yeah, I do," Marshall replies, snuggling down into the sheets.

"How much do you want to bet?" Lily asks. She's much too warm and comfortable to move right now, but she makes a promise to herself. First thing in the morning she's digging out the box.

"Our usual wager will suffice," says Marshall.

"Ten dollars?"

"And sex." They both sit up just enough to shake on it. Lily wriggles down again, running her hand over her belly, the baby growing in there. In this moment, she feels — no, she knows — that everything in her life is absolutely perfect.

"Hey, Lily?" Marshall asks sleepily.

"Yeah?"

"Do you think any of them will ever find out about the box?"

"Want to bet on it?" Lily asks. Marshall chuckles, and she makes a note to write that one down in the morning, too. "I feel really good," she says, tired but somehow wide awake.

"I feel good too, baby," Marshall says, clearly half asleep. "It was great."

"Not that," Lily says. Reconsiders. "That a little bit. But no, I just feel really good. I love you,"

"I love you too."

"and I love our friends, and I love our baby, and I think our lives are going well, and, sure, Barney's going to break up with Nora sooner or later, and no way Kevin's going to last, and Ted'll find about ten more "the ones", but those kids are all going to work it out, too," Lily says, looking at the lights the traffic throws onto their ceilings. "And it's going to be just like this forever." Motherly instinct, that's what this has to be; the feeling that everything from now on will only get better and better.

"Yeah?" Marshall says, and she's not sure he's listening at all. She smiles and shifts closer to him, wraps her arm over his back.

"Just watch —"

* * *

 **2005**

* * *

"— where you're going," a woman in a coat says, pushing past her and climbing down the steps. Robin stays rooted in place, biting her lip.

Robin doesn't believe in fate or destiny or déjà vu, but she stands on the sidewalk and feels something solid and heavy settle into her bones. Not a _premonition_ , but an understanding: that things were about to change. That things were changing around her. That things had changed already. She'd felt it before: in a Safeway at age sixteen, standing before rows of hair dye. On Craigslist last year, telling herself she was in the _manhattan careers_ section just for fun. Pivoting. Destiny. That what she did now would decide what she would be doing in the future. Future days? Future weeks? Years?

But Robin doesn't believe in destiny, so she walks down the stairs into MacClaren's.

The evening rush hasn't yet begun, and neither Ted or his friends — her friends? _Her_ friends, her maybe friends, Lily and Marshall and Barney — are at their usual booth, and that leaves Robin with another decision, one she decides to make with scotch in hand. To run into Ted and his friends is an accident. To arrive at their usual bar is a statement. To arrive first and sit in their booth —

Well. That's a statement, too. She could sit at the bar; hell, she could up and _leave_ , and Robin sees one future in front of her, where she goes home and walks the dogs and finds a bar in Brooklyn, and she sees another, where she makes friends with Ted's friends and — and then what?

And then: she likes Ted, and she really likes Lily, and she thinks Marshall is sweet, and Barney cracks her up, and they've all called her their friend after one night, and Lily told her they always sit here and she should come join them any time, and now Robin has a choice, early and alone and full of understanding. _Premonition_.

She pays for her drink, sits at the booth, and waits.


End file.
